Page 28 of The Friend

Her breath caught as he shifted beneath her while she struggled to concentrate on what he was saying, more turned on than she’d ever been in her life.

“Ask away, Calloway. Doesn’t mean I’ll do it.”

“Oh, you’ll do it.”

As if to prove his point, his fingers disentangled from her hair, sliding down to join his other hand around her waist and not-so-accidentally brushing the sensitive underside of her breast on the way.

She gasped as shockwaves of pleasure flowed through her, the anticipation of the night ahead heightened by his innuendo and seductive touch.

“Okay, just a couple more shots folks and we’re done.”

Tom’s voice wrenched Abby out of the sensual spell and she forced herself to concentrate for the next ten minutes, grateful Judd stopped teasing her with words, secretly elated he still touched her at every opportunity.

As the late afternoon sun dipped towards the horizon, sending a dazzling display of magenta, ochre, and deep purple shimmering across the endless blue ocean, Tom finally called it a day.

“Nice going, you two.” Tom rummaged around the cooler that he’d thoughtfully stocked with water for the afternoon, and held aloft a bottle of champagne in triumph before popping it loudly, filling glasses, and handing around flutes filled with the welcome bubbly.

“Here’s to a job well done. You two are naturals. Wait until you see the shots.” Tom raised his glass in a toast, linking arms with Tara before guzzling the lot in one go.

Abby laughed, her breath catching as Judd placed a hand in the small of her back, a soft touch that burned through the silk all the same.

“Happy?”

“Relieved,” she said, trapped by his potent stare, eager to gulp her champagne but knowing she was light-headed enough without it. “Thanks for doing this. You really helped me out of a tight spot.”

He inclined his head, the casual smile playing about his mouth at odds with the intent in his eyes. “Anytime, though our working day isn’t over yet. We’ve got to sort through the shots, choose the best ones, and email them to Mark.”

“Uh-huh.” Abby nodded mechanically, her mind already skipping to later, after they finished work and moved onto… Blinking, she erased the erotic images filtering across her imagination as to what would come later.

“Here’s to finishing our work fast,” Judd said, his hand sliding from the small of her back to her waist, drawing her closer, heat radiating off him like a smouldering blaze.

“I’ll drink to that.”

However, as Abby clinked glasses with Judd and gazed into his fathomless eyes, she couldn’t help but wonder if their friendship had taken a turn for the better.

Or worse.

Chapter Eleven

Abby stretched out on the sand, her eyelids drooping as she watched the waves break on the shore, incandescent in the moonlight.

After the bizarre day she’d had, relaxing in the isolated cabana on the perfect stretch of private beach still roped off from this afternoon’s shoot, was heavenly. Surrounded by flickering fire torch-lights, the sound of chirping crickets, and the lulling sound of the ocean, she finally felt the tension drain from her body.

The shoot had gone better than she hoped. Tom had done a great job, Judd had helped choose the best shots, and they’d emailed them to Mark after a snatched dinner of room-service hamburgers, fries, and shakes.

They’d shot for two and a half gruelling hours that afternoon, the hectic pace almost making her forget their revelations earlier that day and the fact she was ready to have a fling with her best friend.

Almost, but not quite. Every time she’d looked at Judd, smiling at the camera, holding a pose, handling her with the skill of a surgeon performing the most intricate of operations, itstruck her anew she’d agreed to go the whole way with the one guy in this world who meant everything to her.

As for what had happened when she sat on his lap…her skin burned just thinking about it.

Was she doing the right thing?

Their friendship had been important from the first minute they met. He’d bolted out of his front gate and barrelled into her while his drunken father stood on the porch shouting abuse. She’d been rooted to the spot, her seven year old brain trying to comprehend why the nasty man was shouting at the little boy. As for Judd, he’d glared at her in defiance, swiping at the tears that poured down his dirty cheeks, leaving streaks.

“What are you looking at?” He’d snarled, picking himself up from the footpath and thrusting his hands into torn pockets, glaring at her with fire in his eyes.

She’d stood and dusted herself off before answering. “Wanna come and play at my place? I’ve got a cubby house.”

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